Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

"Didn't your sister-in-law go to see the movie?" he casually called out towards the pool.

Qin Huairu was washing clothes when she heard the sound. She looked up and smiled, "I didn't go. I asked Grandma to take Banggeng and Xiaodang with her. I came back to look after Xiaohuaihua."

He Yuzhu nodded and said nothing more.

After entering the house, I quickly dug out the other half of the open space and planted corn. The early-ripening ears here are already turning yellow. I picked a handful to taste them; they were sweet and delicious.

He picked a few ears of tender corn, intending to make pancakes.

Freshly picked corn is fragrant and sticky, making the softest and most delicious pancakes; if it's too old, it can only be ground into powder and steamed into cornbread.

Southerners love to cook corn rice, while northerners call it cornmeal. It is indeed classified as a whole grain.

But this is the beginning of autumn, and fresh corn is sprouting up, so it's hard to keep up the lie.

He simply steamed the old corn until soft, then mixed it with fresh corn kernels, mashed them together, kneaded it repeatedly, mixed in finely ground brown sugar, and steamed it thoroughly.

Wait until the sun comes out tomorrow, then spread them out to dry; if it's cloudy, put them by the stove to dry slowly—anyway, you have to get rid of all the moisture.

When I opened the door in the early morning, the courtyard was already bathed in sunlight.

He quickly washed up, then climbed onto the roof with the cornbread and spread it out. He went back inside to check the iron box to make sure it was secure before locking the door and heading straight for the black market.

He easily squatted down next to the man and asked, "Hey buddy, are you buying grain?"

Pineapple didn't even look up, waving his hand: "Tickets in, tickets out, grain? Not a drop in the bucket."

He Yuzhu took out a cigarette and offered one to the seller: "We deliver every ten days, 1,100 catties of corn, a reliable deal. If you can make a connection, I'll take 10%, cash on delivery, no questions asked."

Zhang Bo's heart skipped a beat: This kid works in the grain bureau's warehouse, yet he's bolder than the grain warehouse itself. 1100 kilos in ten days—is he going to empty the warehouse dry?

But then he thought, everyone should mind their own business; he would act as a go-between, without losing out or taking any risks.

Pineapple nodded: "Okay! But there's one condition—cash on delivery."

Before he finished speaking, he had already gotten up and walked deeper into the alley. He Yuzhu followed closely behind.

Arriving at an inconspicuous little courtyard house, Zhang Bo raised his hand and knocked five times on the door, neither too hard nor too soft.

A face suddenly peeked out from the crack in the door, its gaze sharp as a knife: "Pineapple? What are you doing here, sneaking around like that?"

Pineapple grinned: "Is Fifth Master here? He brought a friend; we need to make connections for a serious deal."

The man glanced at He Yuzhu following behind Zhang Bo, looked him up and down, then stepped aside to let him in.

Passing through the blue brick path and around the hanging flower gate, a middle-aged man stood under the jujube tree in the backyard—his brow bones were high, his eyes were deep-set, and his eyes, when they swept over, were like searchlights, so bright they were piercing.

"Hey, Zhang Bo? You've sneaked into my back alley again?" Fifth Master said, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyelids barely open.

Pineapple quickly chimed in, "Fifth Master, this brother said he can spare 1,100 jin of corn within ten days and asked me to take the lead."

Fifth Master then looked at He Yuzhu properly, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Young man, you look unfamiliar! Where do you work?"

He Yuzhu clasped his hands in a fist and palm salute: "I dare not presume to do this. I'm just running errands for others, earning a meager living."

Fifth Master exhaled a puff of smoke, his eyes darkening behind the smoke: "The grain—is it clean?"

These words sound light, but they carry immense weight—the meaning couldn't be clearer: If things go wrong, can you handle it? Don't drag everyone down with you.

These days, food is so precious that it's like a hot potato in your hand; there's no room for ambiguity.

He Yuzhu's voice was not loud, but steady: "You just need to prepare the money, and I will be responsible for transporting the grain to the entrance of the alley. I won't enter the house, I won't show my face, and I won't take a single thing from you."

Weighing over a thousand pounds, without any carts or horses, we had to carry everything on our backs and shoulders. During the day, we dared not walk on the main roads, but instead chose to go around walls, alleyways, and abandoned material yards. We also had to be wary of the red armband patrol teams, whose ears were perked up more than rabbits'.

I can't really expect you to squat outside the grain bureau's compound wall, craning your neck and waiting for me to throw corn off the wall, can I?

Doesn't that mean I'm dragging you into being a thief?

Fifth Master chuckled briefly: "Alright! You know the price, right?"

"Nine-tenths of a pound," He Yuzhu answered crisply—he had already made it clear on Pineapple Road.

Fifth Master gestured towards Pineapple: "From now on, he'll be your messenger. Get ready, find him, and he'll come and call me."

After agreeing on the terms, He Yuzhu stepped out of the courtyard house through its mottled black lacquered door, slightly surprised:

From beginning to end, Fifth Master didn't even raise an eyebrow, let alone show any emotion or excitement.

But this 1,100-plus kilograms was a mountain piled up, and he had to carry it into this alleyway alleyway by himself...

He looked down and did some quick calculations: there wasn't enough corn in the space, but there was a whole basket of potatoes, and he was raising a few pigs.

Wait three more days—the new batch will ripen, and with the existing stock, we'll have just enough.

He turned and strode toward the steel plant, his shoes crunching on the gravel.

As soon as the greasy curtain of the canteen kitchen was lifted, Director Ye was already waiting by the stove, a small notebook in his hand: "Chef He, hurry up and prepare a few dishes! The leaders are conducting a surprise inspection today!"

"Make it now, or wait a bit?" He Yuzhu rolled up his sleeves and weighed the spatula in his palm.

"Make it while it's hot!" Director Ye raised an eyebrow. "The leader can have lunch and check on the work at the same time, without wasting time!"

He'd love to check up on things every day—people are more likely to achieve results and show their abilities when they're in the spotlight.

"Keep the flavors mild, don't make anything fancy, and steam a few more baskets of wild vegetable buns," Director Ye instructed in a low voice.

This is a tip leaked by an old classmate: the leader was forged through the hardships of climbing snow-capped mountains and crossing grasslands during the Long March, and he hates extravagance the most, emphasizing frugality.

Last time, the No. 1 Steel Rolling Plant served eight cold dishes and eight hot dishes, along with a whole roasted chicken, and the old leader slammed his fist on the table—

"While the villagers in the mountain valleys are still eating bran cakes, you're feasting on fatty meat! Your bellies are bulging, but your consciences have gone hungry?"

This time, the Third Factory dares not make another mistake.

As soon as the two dark green jeeps came to a stop, Director Yang and Director Ye jogged forward to greet them.

Only two people got off the vehicle: a thin old man and a capable orderly behind him, and no one else.

"We are all honored that our leaders have come to our branch factory to guide our work!" Director Yang said in a loud voice.

"Lead the way." The old leader waved his hand, his gaze already passing over the crowd and landing on the iron gate of the workshop. "I want to see how the workers work, how they eat, and how they live."

He knew perfectly well: his incognito visit was precisely for the sake of authenticity. If he were surrounded by a retinue, who would dare to speak the truth or reveal their true nature?

Upon entering the workshop, the old leader raised his hand to stop Factory Director Yang and Director Ye from leaving: "You two wait outside, I'll just take a look around by myself."

After walking around, my steps became lighter and lighter—the machines hummed, everyone was working hard, sweat was pouring down their faces, but their eyes shone with an unusual brightness.

"Should we eat something first before continuing?" Director Yang asked tentatively.

"Okay." The old leader nodded and walked straight to the cafeteria.

He lifted the lid of the steamer and saw the items on the table: five gray-green wild vegetable buns, a bowl of clear scallion and egg soup, and a plate of stir-fried cabbage with a sparse smear of oil—his lips relaxed and he nodded silently.

This is the true essence of life, rooted in the soil!

Factory Director Yang and Director Ye finally breathed a sigh of relief.

After the meal, the old leader strolled into the canteen's kitchen, pointed to the stove, and asked, "Is this for the workers?"

"Yes!" He Yuzhu wiped the sweat from his forehead, wondering to himself: Who is this old man? The young man next to him stood ramrod straight, like a young poplar tree.

"How much?" The old leader bent down and glanced at the price list.

"One cent for a steamed bun, five cents for a cornbread, two cents for a vegetarian dish, and four cents for a meat dish. Two steamed buns or three cornbreads come with one tael of grain coupons," He Yuzhu answered fluently.

Nowadays, what is called "meat dishes" is nothing more than a few bits of minced meat sprinkled on top when lard is stir-fried in a wok, and that's considered top-notch treatment.

After listening, the old leader didn't say much, just nodded slightly, and turned to leave.

Ma Hua leaned closer and asked in a low voice, "Master, who was that just now? What were they doing wandering into the kitchen?"

He Yuzhu tapped the edge of the wok with a spatula: "Do I look like I'm prying into things? Stop gossiping, just keep an eye on the heat, that's all that matters! Constantly asking questions, how can you possibly cook a delicious dish?"

Ma Hua scratched his head: "Oh! Right, Master, yesterday at lunchtime, Sister Liu Lan secretly put the leftovers into her own lunchbox and took them away."

He Yuzhu's eyelids drooped: "You silly girl." After saying that, he turned around and went to stir the pot.

MCA pressed, "What does 'March 8th' mean?"

He Yuzhu didn't even turn his head: "I'm praising your cleverness."

Liu Lan's life is miserable—after her husband left, she took over the canteen job, her three children were crying for food, her salary was so meager it was practically transparent, and the few ration coupons on her food ration book weren't even enough to eat if she broke them into eight pieces.

If we don't sneak some back, the kids will starve.

Later, Deputy Factory Director Li caught her in the act and used it to threaten her. What could she do?

Are they really going to make them read a self-criticism in front of the whole factory, hang up a sign, and cut their wages? Those three little heads will probably be starving and wobbling.

She held a few loose silver coins in her hand, but she only had a handful of grain ration books and grain coupons, which were tightly held onto.

He Yuzhu pondered that he would find an excuse to take her to the black market later—whether she could find a way to make a living depended on her own fate.

It's better than having Deputy Factory Director Li grab my neck and make it hard to breathe.

As soon as the lunch break bell rang, He Yuzhu wiped his hands clean and called out towards the door:

"Liu Lan! Come here for a second, I need to talk to you."

Liu Lan: "Master He, what's the matter?" She was taken aback, her brows furrowing slightly.

In the past, He Yuzhu would always leave without saying goodbye after work.

As soon as the two stepped out of the factory gate, He Yuzhu suddenly stopped, his gaze falling on the old enamel food box in her hand. His voice was low and deep: "If you keep doing this, you'll get yourself into trouble sooner or later. From now on, if the factory has any hospitality assignments, you'll go with everyone else; if there aren't any, don't touch this job." He paused, his tone softening slightly, "If something really goes wrong, you'll be the one who suffers."

Liu Lan's heart tightened suddenly, and her palms became slightly sweaty. But then she thought about it again and slowly breathed a sigh of relief: He was targeting her! There was strength in numbers, and the law would not punish the masses; besides, if leftover food was not collected and was simply thrown away, that would be wasting public food; but if she secretly took it home, that would be undermining the company and misappropriating public funds—the nature of the crime would be completely different.

"I have three kids at home waiting to be fed. My job is the lifeline of my whole family..." Liu Lan's voice trailed off, like dust blown away by the wind. "My family's food rations have been cut down to almost nothing. I really have no other choice."